


Warmth (Long Gone)

by xylarias



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Hurt, Flashbacks, Friends With Benefits, Goodbyes, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, I Love You, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mentioned Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Mild Smut, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Pet Names, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 17:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylarias/pseuds/xylarias
Summary: He was vulnerable, laid bare; he always was, with Geralt. But this time it was different.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Warmth (Long Gone)

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello!! these fuckers showed up in my dream and basically they were fwb and like one-sided (genuine) love on Jaskier's side,,, yeah

Rays of sunlight broke into the tent, particles of dust dancing in rhythm with the gentle breeze. It was morning, around sunrise. The tent wasn't particularly big, but it was enough to fit a makeshift bed and two men in it. The younger, shorter one had just woken from his uneasy slumber. He stared at the white-haired man beside him, tenderly pushing a stray strand behind the man's ear. He stared at his closed eyes which shone yellow when he was awake. He looked peaceful, contented. It pained Jaskier, having to leave him. But he couldn't go on this way. Slowly, trying his best not to disturb the silence, the bard sat up. It was early summer – birds chirped, sunflowers bloomed, the sun shone bright – but the wind was cool enough to feel cold against naked skin. The bed creaked as he bent down to grab his pants from the floor. He slipped into them.

The witcher woke up, inhaling deeply. He exhaled, shifting so that he could see Jaskier. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, then reached for Jaskier's lower back, attempting to gently touch it. "Come back to bed, Jaskier," grumbled Geralt sleepily. He assumed that Jaskier would lay down beside him again, that they would cuddle and whisper sweet nothings to each other until they fell asleep, as they always did this time of day. Instead, the bard inched away, the ghost of a touch he'd gotten so used to sending a shiver down his spine.

Jaskier buckled his belt, and he was as far away from Geralt as he could possibly be without falling of the mattress. "No, Geralt." Jaskier sounded hurt; heartbroken. He was vulnerable, laid bare; he always was, with Geralt. But this time it was different.

Geralt frowned, moving to lean on his elbow. He didn't understand what was going on. "Why?" he asked plainly, one simple question that held a thousand others inside.

Jaskier stood up, turning around so that he could stare straight at Geralt's beautiful yellow eyes when he said what he'd been holding back for so long – _too_ long. He'd never said it out loud. He hadn't been ready to lose what they had, to lose Geralt. But he respected himself enough to be aware that this wasn't good for him and that he would have to end things before it was too late. "I can't keep doing this," he said, voice breaking as he gestured between the two of them. Geralt blinked, still clueless. "I can't– I can't keep thinking that we have something and then watch you declare your love for that _woman_!" he snapped, thinking about her violet eyes and long black hair, how she was much better than Jaskier, how Geralt loved him so much more than he loved Jaskier.

In fact, Jaskier wasn't sure if Geralt even loved him. If he ever had. Maybe he'd only stayed with Jaskier for the pleasure and the benefit of it. But Jaskier loved Geralt in almost every sense of the word. He loved him as a friend. He loved him as a lover. And that was the worst part. Jaskier had been so blinded by his own feelings toward Geralt that he'd desperately clung to the hope that someone like Geralt could love someone like Jaskier. But it wasn't meant to be. When Jaskier really thought about it, he'd never even heard Geralt say the words back.

_"How's that feel, buttercup?" crooned Geralt, right beside Jaskier's ear. They were skin to skin, hip to hip, eye to eye, soul to soul._

_Jaskier groaned. They were entangled in each other, Geralt's warmth embracing him from inside out. It felt so good. It always did. Jaskier bit on his lip. "Good," he said, breathless. His hands clawed down Geralt's back. "It feels so good, Geralt, darling," he moaned, head resting on top of the pillow. His toes curled in enjoyment._

_Geralt grunted, white teeth exposed as he grinned lopsidedly. His hair was open, strands of hair blocking his vision from the side. But it didn't matter. All that he saw right now was Jaskier who was under him, right where he wanted him._

_Jaskier stared, letting out a ragged breath as he studied Geralt's face, lips slightly parted. He ran his hand through Geralt's silver locks, gently pulling on them. Geralt exclaimed, collapsing on top of the bard. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt, tracing his scars as Geralt paced his breath, breathing right into Jaskier's ear. Jaskier swallowed, gasping for breath. He'd missed this. So much. The words escaped his lips before he could stop himself. "I love you," he whispered, burying his head against Geralt's shoulder._

_Geralt smiled, kissing Jaskier. But he never said it back._

A deep grumble came from Geralt's throat as he conjured Jaskier's name from his lips. Jaskier was going to miss hearing it. "Jask..." he said gruffly, finally catching the course of the conversation.

Jaskier just shook his head, putting on his shirt and jacket. He gathered his belongings and shoved them into his bag, and he didn't even bother checking whether he'd forgotten something. It didn't matter to him at this moment. "I won't be seeing you for a while, then," said Jaskier. He threw his lute over his shoulder, straightening his posture. He turned to the doorway. "Goodbye, Geralt." What he'd thought he would be an emotional goodbye had, indeed, been one. The manner in which Jaskier delivered his last sentence, on the other hand, hadn't been what Jaskier had hoped it would be. He'd tried to say it with an unwavering tone with a sense of finality, but it'd come out as more of a croak, seeing as he'd had to stifle a sob and hold back tears.

He waded through the fabric, and then he was outside. Never to be seen again.

And Geralt was left alone in the tent, just empty sheets and quiet gusts of wind in place of his bard's comforting, familiar warmth.


End file.
